Lighting the Lamps
by Tynesider
Summary: Spooky Swamp needs the lamps lit at night to guide the way, but he's left it too late, and there's plenty of danger lurking in the darkness. OneShot. Rated for mild gore.


He was fleet-footed across the grass, waddling as fast as his spindly legs would take him and fighting the cold dew that soaked his feet with every step. He was panting as he ran, too: his hot breath billowing into the air before being battered aside by the fat raindrops falling from above. He could care less about the raindrops, though. What really bothered him was the darkness that was fast approaching.

He ground to a halt as a cramp squeezed his stomach, and exhaustion tilted him forward as he stood wheezing. He wasn't fit by any stretch of the imagination. School PE lessons were burned into his memory as individual nightmares – huffing and puffing his way around a track, summer dirt clogging his airwaves as teachers screamed their barely disguised disgust at him. The thought of it all spread a hopeless smirk across his face. The boy who couldn't run was now running for a living. Running from the darkness that took over every night, and lighting the lamps that fought it.

He glanced at his watch, and jerked upright. Was that really the time? It must be, he was struggling to see, and struggling to see sent him into panic. He scuttled off, desperately scanning the fading light for the next lamp. In many ways he was ideally suited to this job – Spooky Swamp needed the lamps lit every night, and he loathed darkness. It was a match made in Heaven as his intense paranoia meant no lamp went unlit, but even Heaven had its pitfalls. While he was pleased to be responsible for ensuring Spooky Swamp was accessible to all during the quiet hours it meant wandering into dark areas, hunting for lamps, and as he waded into another patch of darkness he felt his stomach turn again. It was the same story every night: wander around, light lamps and have his insides torn open in the process, and the money he got for it wasn't half as good as it should be for someone as neurotic as himself.

His eyes snagged on the sight of a ladder, and with glee he ran towards it, eagerly clambering up the splintered rungs and into the protective dome. A gentle sigh, this was better. Here he was sheltered from the wind and the rain and those horrible things that lurked below, like the alligators and the piranhas. He shuddered at the thought of them. Such rotten creatures lived here. So aggressive, sight the only thing they needed to throw themselves at you; even the lobsters, the so-called fodder, would snap at your toes when given the opportunity. There was also that bear that enjoyed harassing people for money with haikus, though he was a minor grievance compared to the other stuff. Like the darkness, which he noticed had grown thicker as he sat there procrastinating. He yelped and thrust a hand into his pocket, yanking out a book of matches. He struck one but it failed to light. He tried again, but his numb hands prevented him from striking fast enough. He bit his lip and looked out of the lamp, but couldn't see the stretches of land past the water. Too dark for his liking. He struck more frantically and snapped the match. He cursed and drew another, striking slower this time, and the result was a hiss and a warm flame springing to life. Relieved, he held it to the wick, which ignited and filled the world around him with light. Yes, that was much better. He could see a little more now. Not much, but enough to make out the beasties that lurked below. He smiled and took out his list, checking off another lamp, but the four check boxes that remained tightened his throat again.

He lowered himself down the ladder and took off again. It was practically night now, with no light other than the lamps he had already lit. He'd left it far too late tonight. He had let himself get distracted and now he'd paid the price. He checked his watch again as he strode across the grass, and blinked a few times to absorb the shock. By this time on most nights he'd be curled up in his cosy cabin, a blanket spread across his legs and a coffee warming his hands, but not tonight. Tonight he was working the late-night shift, and he only had his idleness to blame for the fear he was feeling. He wiped the rain from his eyes and peered into the distance, hunting for the next light. Where was it? He didn't know, and that worried him. All sunlight was gone now, and suddenly this place was alien to him, a route he had walked two hundred times before vanished and replaced by something ineligible, something he couldn't see unless he was a few feet away. He stopped dead and suddenly became aware of his breathing, and how much heavier it had become.

"Oh no," he whispered. Then he remembered the lantern and the colour drained from his face. Oh God, the lantern! The council had supplied him with one to be used in exactly this situation, and he didn't have it with him. He cursed again, but quietly to avoid the attention of any nearby beasts. What an idiot he was! So complacent with his job that he thought he was fast enough to evade his fears, and now he was regretting it. He grabbed the matches again and lit one, but only managed a few steps before the flame seared his fingers. He yelped and dropped it into the grass, snuffing it out and letting the gloom surround him again. Now he was scared. Blind in a world he couldn't decipher that was filled with all manner of horrible things. Hot tears trickled out of his eyes, mingling with the icy raindrops that were driving against him, but he rubbed them away. He had to keep going, he'd lose his job if the lamps went unlit, and with nowhere else for him to go he began to pick his way across the sodden grass.

The occasional glimmer of moonlight on the water was all he could use to guide him, and the gentle lapping did nothing for his tension. Water only reminded him of the piranhas that lurked in there, piranhas that would rip him to pieces were he to misstep. He looked around and spotted a dark gap amidst the shimmering. A bridge? Possibly. He needed a bridge, there was definitely one between lamps four and five, but an inkling of doubt kept him rooted to the spot. Then he remembered what was sharing the ground with him and he went for it. To his relief the sodden grass gave way to firm stone. He strolled across, hearing the sound of snapping in the water as he went. Bile rose in his throat. Piranhas, just waiting to strike those wandering in the night, those who took one step too many on account of unlit lamps, and the thought of his negligence causing such an accident was far more painful than bumping into something nasty. He picked up speed, but stopped as stone changed back into grass. He was on another islet, and that meant there had to be another lamp not too far from here. He advanced cautiously, steering himself away from the water with one eye and scanning the land with the other. The wind and rain made his body clench and shiver, but he would not go any faster than a step every few seconds. He had to focus, look for what may not be obvious at first glance, and as he scanned the area with cautious eye he saw something that made his heart leap: a ladder.

He stifled a squeak of delight. A ladder! Progress! He cantered towards it, but a rustle stopped him dead in his tracks. His tension soared again. What was that? He peered around, but there was nothing to be seen. He licked his lips and began to walk again, eyes darting between ladder and the invisible distance, and it was as he glanced back towards his target that the alligator sunk its teeth into his leg.

He screamed and lashed out in a frantic fury, but the gator would not be dislodged that easily. He kicked harder, but the shakes only drove the teeth deeper into his limb, cutting away at nerve and muscle until all feeling drained away. Clenching his teeth he limped forward, gator in tow. He felt it pulling him back, hoping to topple him, and he screamed again. He couldn't fall down, the odds were already skewed in the gator's favour, and once he was on the floor...no, he couldn't think about it.

"Help!" he cried, grabbing ahold of the ladder, but the only respondent was the gator. He let go of his leg, but only to lunge again seconds later and take another bite. The sickening scrape of tooth on bone filled his ears. His body froze, and that allowed the gator to pull and send him tumbling to the floor.

"No!" he screamed, slamming a hand into the dirt to hook himself in, but the gator pulled him away. He did everything to resist, but he couldn't stop himself going backwards, and when he stole a glance in the direction he was travelling his heart shrivelled.

"Help me!" he roared, turning away from the glistening he was fast heading towards. He clawed at the grass again, but fortune did not favour him tonight as the moist tendrils slipped through his he heard a splash and his spirit crumpled.

"Please!" he whined, choking on tears and a lack of air. Another splash as a gator leg hit the water, shortly followed by another as the other leg followed, then the sound of chattering. His pupils shrunk. Piranhas. He pulled more furiously at the ground, tears dribbling down his face. What had he done to deserve this? Maybe he was a little self-centred, but surely that didn't merit a fate like this? It didn't matter though, he was going into the water where there was no chance of escape, and he only had himself to blame. He curled his fingers deeper into the mud, holding them there until they were pulled away for the last time, but they weren't.

He felt the weight on his leg slacken. The pain was there, but the weight tearing deeper into it was gone. Curious, he pulled himself forward, and his body obeyed. Nothing was pulling him back anymore. He lay still as the fact sunk in, vast breaths filling his lungs. Somehow he was alive. He didn't understand why, but he was grateful for whatever it was.

"Hello," a voice suddenly said, and his heart jolted again. He twisted around and screamed. Standing over him was a dragon, its purple coat a melting blot in the darkness, but despite its horns and claws the look on its face was one of hurt. "No, it's okay," he said, "I'm not going to hurt you. I got rid of the gator, see?"

He said nothing, but his frozen face slackened at his words.

"Your leg looks pretty bad," the dragon continued. He didn't look at his wounds but he nodded anyway. "We'd better get you to a safe place," he looked up and narrowed his eyes, "I think I can see some kind of dome over there. It's worth a look." He looked back at him, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "I'm going to pick you up, and I might hurt your leg a little, but I promise I'll do my best not to hurt you too much, okay?"

Another nod, mouth open but no words coming from it. The dragon stepped forward and grabbed his overalls in his mouth, and with a flap of his wings they were flying.

He felt more numb than ever as they fluttered away. The wind and rain brought stiffness to his fingers, but they weren't responsible for the senselessness he felt inside his head. The world was hazy, but he wasn't tired or ill. Just broken. His body; his nerves; his spirit, and he felt nothing as he was gently lowered onto the wooden deck of the lamp.

"There we go," the dragon said, gently nudging him across so that he was fully sheltered, "You'll be fine up here." He spun around so that he faced the elements. "I'll be back soon, I'm just going to find someone to help with your leg as I'm not very good with that sort of thing."

He didn't answer, but this time he was distracted by the angry gash on the dragon's thigh, the blood dribbling from it shadowing his leg.

"Yeah," he said, noticing his stares, "Just a small cut I took from the gator. It's nothing a bandage can't fix. Anyway, I'll be back soon, just get comfortable, okay?"

He nodded again, and with a warm smile the dragon leapt from the lamp and flew off.

He sat deathly still in the lamp, not moving but not thinking either. A corpse propped up against the wall, wide-eyed and tight-lipped. He glanced around, and he just about made out the wick of the lamp's candle, sticking upwards, waiting to be doused in flame.

"Huh," he said quietly, and pushed a trembling hand into his pocket, clasping the book of matches. He struck one, but his trembles dropped it as he reached forward, the flame fizzling out as it struck the floor. Undeterred, he shakily struck another, clutching the match with white-knuckle intensity as he leaned forward and pressed it to the wick. It smouldered and ignited, bathing the world in light. He squinted against the light, and when he felt tears spill over his eyes and sobs clench his chest he didn't stop them.

There. Another lamp lit.

* * *

**I've really slowed up on this story writing lark, haven't I? Oh well, here's another story. :)**

**I hate walking home at night. I live in a fairly safe area but I'm still massively paranoid that I'll get jumped by some far-from-savoury characters, and it also doesn't help that my route home involves skirting around a huge, unlit field. :( This story is inspired by one late-night journey home recently where I decided to dodge the field and work my way around the housing estates, only to find that there were two...erm..._gentlemen_ walking not too far ahead of me in the same direction. In reflection I probably would have been fine, but at the time I slowed right down so they had about a 500 yard advantage and couldn't hear my footsteps. That's a nice little insight into how I exist for you. XD**

**This is possibly the first character I haven't given a name. Whether that's for better or for worse is your call but I believe it stems from a short story I wrote recently which also featured a nameless chap. I also wanted to incorporate Spooky Swamp as it's one of the nastier Spyro levels, but the title of creepiest enemy definitely still goes to the Robot Wasps in Robotica Farms. o_0 I also haven't written about Spyro for a while, so I've included Spyro being Spyro. How else? :D**

**This story would have made a good Halloween story but sadly my brain doesn't work that fast. Oh well, enjoy anyway. :)**


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